


Collared and Scratched

by strikeyourcolors



Series: Control(led) Issues [2]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Under the Red Hood
Genre: Affection, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Collars, Consensual Kink, Humiliation, M/M, Pet Play, Roughness, unrequited feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-13
Updated: 2017-01-13
Packaged: 2018-09-17 03:57:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,083
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9303134
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/strikeyourcolors/pseuds/strikeyourcolors
Summary: Jason knows how to do his research and his current source of interest is Dick himself. Jason wants to play, and Dick isn't going to tell him no. The treaty between Nightwing and Red Hood definitely could have gone in a clearer, less sordid direction.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wasn't planning for this to become a series but, well, reviewers requested and I actually had a few more ideas so here we are! Some segments will be more plot heavy and some more smut heavy. Guess which one this one is?
> 
> Jason does slightly creepy research on Dick. Dick is actually really pleased by what he's found out. They both have issues but what else is new? Misunderstandings abound. Also porn. Mostly porn. I'm not going to lie to you.

Dick isn't sure how they got to this point, and he's entirely too sure that he does know and he refuses to admit it even to himself. Their treaty had started with little, coded notes left to one another. It had taken Dick a laughably long time to realize they were coded with something newer than the one Jason would have learned as Robin. Which meant Jason could read any correspondence between Bruce and Tim, or Dick and Tim, and that certainly explained some of the trouble they'd run into when Red Hood had still been an entirely hostile agent. Especially some of the worse scrapes Tim got into. 

Probably, it wasn't a good idea to have a treaty with someone who tried to murder your little brother. But, Dick reminded himself, Jason hadn't tried to kill Tim recently and if he was in Bludhaven, he probably wasn't keen on trying again any time soon. He was doing his family a favor by keeping Jason in his city. Really. He was giving everyone breathing room.

_Bombs in dockyard_ , Jason's notes would say. Or _Plan by idiots to unmask Nightwing_ with the details attached. Dick had to be far more careful with information he gave Jason. Corrupt cops planning a drug raid. A pimp who was a little too rough on his girls or liked them a little too young. He watched for bodies. There were a few, but only once was it someone Dick thought Jason could have killed and it hadn't been a name or a case he gave him. That shouldn't have been reassuring. Bruce would have jumped on the chance to investigate. Dick left well enough alone.

It had progressed to phone calls. Short conversations about traps with the most urgency and tips that needed to be investigated right then. The short conversations became an average length, soon after. Mentions of which all night diners were vigilante friendly. Passing, almost friendly conversations about comparisons to Gotham.

It's amazing what Dick can justify to himself. His mind and reasoning abilities can turn as many flips as his body. Somewhere, he knows he shouldn't be doing this. 

He's tried to wash Jason's touch off him. He's found a few willing partners but there was always something wrong. The grip on his hair actually tore out some of it, or the way they smacked him was light and almost made him ticklish. He doesn't say Jason's better than they are, but he's sure his displeasure is clear.

“It's that you have to hold back with them,” Jason told him one night as they sat on the roof of one building Dick insisted was vaguely reminiscent of a view of Gotham. Jason wasn't impressed. Dick didn't dare ask if he was homesick. Red Hood smoked a cigarette. Nightwing nursed a cup of really terrible coffee. “They know you're in good shape and that you're a gymnast or a cop or whatever but they don't know you're fucking _Nightwing_. You can't let them know that they could punch you in the balls and you'd hold yourself together long enough to break their jaw and then vomit on their unconscious face.” 

The imagery alone made Dick wince. “I'd actually rather none of that happen even if I did want them to know I'm Nightwing,” He had answered. “Wait, have you been _watching_ me have sex?”

Jason hadn't replied But Jason had known a few more intimate details that Dick was really sure he hadn't told him. He wasn't sure if he should feel ashamed or outraged or aroused so he settled for a mix of all three and vowed to close his curtains next time. There wasn't a next time, though. 

Not with anyone except Jason. 

It's an hour after a bust they'd accidentally worked together. Dick had been working an embezzlement case, Jason a trafficking case, and they'd combined to the same blowout. No one particularly skilled but enough gunfire that it had been a challenge and they make it back to Dick's apartment with nerves singing and no one bleeding, which is a successful night. 

There's been something familiar in working with Jason, even if they rarely worked together before. It's having someone you know at your back. It's the sensation of being able to give just a little, knowing someone will pick up your slack. Something Dick's been missing, all alone in Bludhaven. 

“I want to play with you,” Jason whispers, arms around his chest from behind as they strip out of their costumes. It isn't a hug. Dick shivers anyway, and there's only a moment's hesitation before he nods. They can play. Dick's eager for it, not that he'll admit that. “I have some ideas,” Jason adds and Dick wonders if the ideas came from the internet or a fetish magazine or even an actual, living person. 

He's curious. Charmed by the fact Jason has taken such an interest in this. He knows it's all manipulation, but he can't help it. Last time giving himself over to Jason had worked out well. Jason even sort of trusted him now. What can he gain from this time?

Jason knows where he keeps his toys, which is a little troubling. The larger man goes instantly to his dresser and pulls out the false bottom of one of the drawers. It's where Dick keeps toys he usually uses when he's alone, and when he needs some fucking stress relief. His heart skips a beat, and Jason seems to be waiting for him to say something, but Dick just shakes his head and vows to get a lock.

The collar is what Jason picks. It's heavy and leather and when it fastens around his neck, Dick automatically feels like he's choking. But Jason's warm fingers buckle it into place, petting the edge of his hairline, and Dick can give him that if he likes how it looks. “Let's get that drink we talked about,” He suggests. They're both in underwear and t-shirts. “Maybe then we can stop looking like the gayest slumber party ever.”

“Please,” Dick retorts with an eye roll. “There aren't even any sequins.”

“Only because you burned Discowing.” He walks into Dick's kitchen like he owns it, going through his cabinets and sneering at the selection of liquor Dick keeps. He's not even sure where he got most of it. Remnants of parties? Brought over by friends?

Jason pours himself a glass of wine and rummages through the contents of Dick's kitchen, adding spices and dashes of this and that. “Go sit by the couch,” He orders, and Dick reluctantly obeys because he feels a little awkward hovering over him. “Take off your clothes, pretty bird.”

Dick sheds on his way to the couch. Jason's seen him naked countless times. But now Jason has fucking collared him and Dick would be lying if he said he wasn't eager to see what else Jason has learned.

When Jason comes back he has the glass of wine and another for Dick. Except his drink isn't in a glass. It's in a bowl. A bowl Jason sits on the floor near the couch and gestures to with a look of challenge. The uncertainty is lingering, Dick thinks, is more visible without the domino over his eyes. He's imitating something. He's planned out a script. He's waiting for Dick to take the role and drink out of a dish on the floor like some kind of pet. 

He feels a guilty pulse of pleasure at the base of his dick. Fuck. He waits for Jason to seat himself, and he crawls over to the dish to drink. He's thirsty, at least. The wine isn't great but whatever Jason's done to it makes it sweet and spicy and completely palatable to Dick's admittedly low standards. He can feel Jason's eyes on him the entire time, but the dish is halfway empty before Jason touches him. 

His hand is big, calloused and warm. He pets down Dick's spine first, stopping at the curve of his ass. The next touch is underneath him, barely brushing his hard nipples, feeling for any sort of softness in his belly an that makes Dick burn with shame. He's in great shape, but he could afford to be in better. He knows he's not up to Batman's standards and that every bit of give to his abs is noticed. Dick gets his workouts by fighting. His diet consists of whatever is readily available enough to stuff into his face so he doesn't starve to death.

Jason's touch makes him feel so dehumanized. He's reminded of the time he'd been there when they purchased horses for the circus. The way the trainer ran his hands over their lithe bodies. The way he pressed in to any imperfection to see what was lying beneath the surface. Jason feels down the long scar on the outside of his calf, pausing to tickle the sole of Dick's foot. It makes him twitch, makes him smother a laugh, before the hand is gone again and finding a mostly-healed gash above his hip bone. 

As Jason continues to stroke him, it isn't the affection in the touch that starts to get him hard; it's the memory of the horses. 

“You have shit taste for someone with a trust fund,” Jason tells him after taking another swallow of wine. “No good booze. Based on those frozen meals I'd guess you eat your weight in MSG every month. You have a good television set up but, dude, this couch?” Jason bounces a little to emphasize that it's kind of like someone taped some poly fill to a piece of plywood and passed it off as a couch. 

“It came with the apartment,” Dick argues, but, shit this turns him on. The position, the fact he's wearing a collar and drinking out of a bowl at Jason's feet and being just a little bit degraded.

“Dickie,” Jason says and shakes his head. Dick knows his apartment is a little bare. Okay, a lot bare. The last girl he'd had in it had said that a single, straight man definitely lived there. Jason's fingers move into his hair and Dick, ashamedly, nuzzles into his hand before he realizes it. He wants the affection. He wants the physical praise if he's not getting it verbally. 

Jason turns on the admittedly nice television. The news is playing, but Dick quickly learns that Jason doesn't actually want to watch. He wants the distraction. He wants to have the excuse that he's not paying attention to Dick and Dick is a little thrilled that he's so much that Jason _needs_ to distract himself. 

The touches change. Jason takes off his shirt and Dick tries to sneak glances at his perfectly chiseled, scarred body, but Jason always guides his gaze back to the floor. Jason pinches a nipple, or scratches the stubs of his nails over Dick's belly. He gives his burgeoning erection a few strokes and Dick feels like his skin is too tight, like it might split with how much blood is going there. He palms his balls and gives a light squeeze, then ruffles his hair affectionately like he hadn't just touched him intimately at all. Dick hears the woman on the news drone on about a coming rainstorm. He just wishes he could string a coherent thought together to protest. Every time he makes a sound Jason smiles at him and tells him to be good. 

Is he drugged? Stupid? Sex deprived? Dick doesn't know. He knows he shouldn't put up with this. With Jason following him home and acting like he owns the place and treating Dick like he's a fucking pet and making him damnably hard and not even taking off his pants. What a jerk. 

The disgruntlement must show in his expression because Jason has drained his wine glass and is actually looking at his face. “Traffic light system?” He questions and Dick stares, wondering if he's so hard and so hard up for affection that he's lost his mastery of the English language and is now hearing nonsense words. 

“What?”

“Red for stop. Green for go. I read something about it.” There's a new flush to Jason's cheeks, and the wine wasn't enough to do it. Dick feels...a little more in control with that. With Jason's embarrassment that he'd actually read up on safe words. 

“That's fine,” Dick agrees. “You can use them too, alright? Don't push yourself.” Dick doesn't know if Jason would push himself to be too rough on Dick, or too kind. There's the thrill of danger all over again and the knowledge that he really shouldn't be doing this. 

Jason has been watching Dick the whole time. Did the man even realize what he did? A shift from his knees made him arch his back in a sinful curve. A sigh made his lips wet, half parted, perfect to slide his fingers between or his cock. The filling erection made Jason's mouth water and he wasn't one who typically wanted to suck cock. Not like how Dick was hungry for it. 

He was in deep. He wanted to please Dick. He wanted to grind his face into the mud. He wanted to cherish him. He wanted to make him lick his boots and thank him for the privilege. Maybe he wanted to make him get off on his boots first. 

Definitely, he needed the news cast before he got too lost in his own head. 

“How do you like it, Golden Boy?” Jason asks him softly. He knows Dick is about at the end of his tether for being able to stay quiet. He's impressed he did it so long. “I see you with the others sometimes, but I never know what's real and what's you putting on a show for them.” That was, he knew, his main issue with Dick. Dick could lie with his body and with his words. Dick's moods were quick to change but Dick lived to please. Jason had always found those people troubling and Dick Grayson was very different to just Dick and was very different to Nightwing. As a kid he hadn't known what was real in Dick Grayson. As an adult, he still wasn't entirely certain. 

“I like it all,” Dick tells him with that charming, cocky smirk. He rises to his knees and Jason watches the way his thickened cock bobs as he moves. He slinks to Jason, to drape his top half over Jason's knees. 

Jason takes the opportunity to smack him on the ass. Dick gasps, bucking against him, then gives him a pout. “Liar,” He scolds. “Tell me the truth. Do you like it hard? Fast enough that you're coming before you know it? Do you like it slow, drawn out?” His fingers drift down Dick's spine. No matter how much muscle he gets, the vertebrae are always visible. “Do you want to come until you feel like you're dying or hold back until you think you might die?”

And Dick. _Dick_. He moans and his entire body feels tense against Jason. Jason feels the answering throb of his own cock, his hand pressed flat against Dick's tailbone. That's not an act. Dick Grayson is just sin incarnate. “I want all of it,” Dick admits, nuzzling the inside of his thigh and Jason needs to get these pants off, and soon. “I want to be pushed. I want someone who knows what I can take and gives it to me.” 

Dick is reminded, distantly, of a girl he brought home ages ago. A pretty little secretary, petite, who hinted she liked it a little kinky in the bathroom. She's tapped him so lightly with a little leather flogger that she might as well have been tickling him. She'd cuffed his hands in front of him and he had been so tempted to tell her he learned how to get out of those before he was ten years old. 

“What if I make you bleed?” Jason asks softly and Dick groans again, knowing Jason is aware he could handle that. Jason's made him bleed before, but never in this context. 

“I'd have to take it,” He whispers. “But red. Tonight? Red.” It's safer. Safe when Jason is still, hot as he is, an unknown variant. Nothing tonight that Dick can't stop if Jason carries it too far. 

“You like taking or giving?” Jason asks him and Dick wants to tease him by asking him taking or giving what. But the implication is obvious with the way his face is pressed against Jason's groin. The way Jason paws his ass, squeezes one cheek, fingers digging into the thick muscle. One day he's going to turn these questions on Jason. One day he's going to learn more about his little wing and who he's become in bed and out of it. 

“Both,” Dick gasps out. “I like both. Honest to God.”Because he feels Jason's hand lifting and he doesn't want to be smacked again. Except he kind of does. He knows Jason isn't offering himself to get fucked. Jason's always been a bit prickly about that Dick would have bet that Jason was entirely straight until recently. 

Jason gets off the couch. Dick has to scramble to not be completely dumped on the floor and Jason nudges him down with a foot “Stay on your hands and knees,” He orders, and Dick is happy to obey when he realizes Jason is taking off his pants. The shorts underneath are solid black and definitely a size too small. The seams are splitting on Jason's thighs and his ass is highlighted in enough definition that Dick has a very real need to sink his teeth into it. 

Fortunately for Jason, he kneels before Dick gets the chance. “Both,” He repeats, and he's palming Dick's ass again. Dick moans and arches, lets Jason spread his knees wider and then...

Then he's spreading Dick's _ass_ and his eyes go slightly wide. He's flushed and hot, aware of all Jason can see, aware of what Jason is looking at and a part of his stomach squirms and his cock throbs. “I don't know,” Jason says, voice low and thick. “Your hole looks pretty well used to me.” He moves his hand, presses the pad of his thumb against the muscle. 

And Dick's asshole twitches against it. Anticipation or arousal or simply reflex, Dick doesn't know, but he's dizzy suddenly from how fast he blushes. From his face to his chest going a bright, hot red. 

Jason laughs. So grown up, to Dick's addled mind. So low and rich and it does funny things to his stomach and helps build on the shame there. “Well,” He says, circling the muscle again, pressing his thumb, dry, against it. “I guess there's no question of what you want right now.” 

Fuck. Dick drops enough to hide his face in the bend of his arms. Because no one in this world seems to know him better than Jason Todd. Not Bruce, who has raised him since he was a child. No, he'd die of shame if Bruce ever saw him collared and begging. Not Tim, who Dick has vowed to be more open and loving with after the disaster of Jason's life. Not Barbara who deserved so much more out of him. 

It's Jason fucking Todd who died years ago, who resurrected as a homicidal thorn in their sides. The black sheep of their family who Dick is presenting for. Jason who knows that he wants to let go, that he needs to let go. That he wants to be debased and shamed in a way he can't be in his real life, or in his night life. Nightwing has to win. 

Jason's thumb moves away and Dick barely manages to restrain himself from chasing the sensation. Jason spreads his ass cheeks once again, moves his thumb to press on his taint, strokes the seam of his balls with his first knuckle and Dick makes a ragged noise that gets caught in his throat. “Just do something already,” He mutters, words muffled by his arm. 

It earns him another sharp slap on the thigh, which makes his dick twitch. It hangs heavy and hard and incriminating between his legs and there's only the barest satisfaction in knowing that Jason is straining in his briefs as well. “I think you're trying to make me hit you,” Jason coos. His fingers tighten, hard enough to leave bruises, enough that he'll do damage to the muscle if he twists a certain way. “Just like you always do.”

It jars Dick back to reality because never once has he made Jason do anything of the sort. Jason can really do some damage like this, is already making his muscles burn, making him need to get away from the harsh touch and the too-intimate stare. “Yellow,” Dick whispers, but he's winding up, getting ready to kick and make a run for it. 

There's a second as Jason processes it and then he lets go. He rubs the red marks where fingers have dug in. Still turned on, still wanting this power over Dick. He hadn't realized how hard he was gripping him. How lost he was in the memory of punching Dick, of fighting him, of making blood come out of those pretty lips. Dick is staring at him with wary blue eyes and Jason knows he has to pull it together. Has to pretend. “You're so fucking perfect,” He breathes, and means it. There's only a little bit of resentment at how perfect. He lifts up to nuzzle the back of Dick's spine, to drag his teeth along it, to give little kisses that make his cock hard and make his throat seize with the need to gag at how dangerously close he is to literally kissing the Perfect Son's ass. 

Dick settles back down, after a moment. “Green.” It's all Jason needs to grip his hips again, to flip him onto his back. Jason straddles him before he knows it, but it's not like last time. Jason's ass is on his groin, he's leaning down to press against his chest. Jason lays the length of him and kisses him. He kisses him like he's drowning, like he's eating him alive, and Dick can only try to keep up. 

His partners have accused him of having an oral fixation. Dick loves to kiss, loves to give head, loves to eat someone out. He's well-practiced but Jason is a different class. Jason is the wild frenzy he remembered, tasting of wine and cigarettes. Enough teeth that Dick knows his lips are getting bitten but just enough finesse that it's not a complete cluster fuck. 

“I think you dream about this, pretty bird,” Jason breathes next to his ear when they break apart. He's rubbing against Dick and his cock, even though the fabric, is as thick and hot as Dick remembers. He aches for it. He needs it. He's not fulfilling his purpose if he's not touching him, but Jason has easily pinned his arms above his head. “I think you dream about being used. About all those toys you have. Your collar and clamps. Those silk ropes and that dildo that's the size of your fucking arm...”

“A joke,” Dick has to protest, even though he's tipping his head back and baring his throat and submitting utterly to Jason. It really was a joke, courtesy of Wally, and one he didn't quite know how to get rid of. Deep in his mind he realizes that Jason hasn't just seen the location of his sex toy cache; he's been through it. “Are you doing research on me?”

Jason hums an agreement, catching the lobe of his ear and nibbling on it in a way that makes Dick seize up, rub his throbbing erection against Jason's muscular thigh. He swears he hears the underwear ripping even more as Jason flexes. “There's so many flavors of people like you. I had to be sure.”

_Information is our strength and our enemy's weakness._ He remembers the lecture from his Robin days. It had probably gone in a manual. _You can bring your enemy down with the right piece of intelligence._ Is he Jason's enemy? Had Jason even been aware of what he was doing?

“You're not a straight up masochist,” Jason is continuing. Dick thinks he missed some words in between. “You like a little pain, but not too much. You like the struggle and the fight. You like being used, objectified.” He pulls back and grins at Dick. “Humiliated.”

It's why they pair so well together. Jason likes to hurt, Jason likes to subdue him. Jason likes pointing out his every flaw. It's an outlet for the chip on Jason's shoulder that doesn't involve putting Dick in the hospital. 

And maybe Dick should be flattered that, deep down, Jason had rather fuck him into a coma with his dick instead of with his fists. 

“You have lube?” Jason asks and Dick gets a giddy little thrill. Heat sparks in his belly, curves along his nerves. He knows what that's leading up to. He nods, mouth suddenly dry. “Bedroom.”

Jason rolls off him, his hand going to palm himself through his underwear. Adjusting himself, easing the strain. Fucking gorgeous, and Dick is looking at that instead of the multitude of new scars on Jason and the strange absence of others he swears he remembers. “Go,” He orders. “Crawl.”

Dick's already developing bad knees, but he finds he doesn't mind doing this for Jason. He turns himself around, pausing to lick a stripe from Jason's sternum down his belly to the patch of hair that disappears beneath fabric. Jason makes a sound, not quite a whine or a growl but pretty damn close, and Dick's knees shake with the sudden need. “Go,” Jason tells him again with a half-hearted kick his direction. 

Dick goes. He crawls and tries to make it graceful. He imagines Selina. He imagines Barbara. Sinewy, with a roll of his hips. His prick bobs. His balls ache. He can feel Jason's eyes on him until he rounds the doorway into his room. He finds the lubricant, and a box of condoms. He's not sure what Jason has planned but it never hurts to be prepared. 

Jason appears a moment later, pausing before he crosses the threshold to the bedroom. The anger is gone. There's need that Dick can see, raw on his face, but the predatory look is fading. 

“Green,” Dick says. He wants to say more. Wants to reassure him, wants to comfort him. Still wants to ask how many sexual partners Jason has even had. But he knows Jason would, best case scenario, bolt at any of those gestures from Dick. “Green for you?” He adds when Jason's gaze lingers a bit too long on the condoms. 

“Fuck,” Jason whispers, fingers going out to touch the doorframe like that will provide him some stability. He doesn't know what to say. He's pretty sure every one in the superhero community had at least one fantasy of fucking Nightwing, or of getting fucked by Nightwing, but he's the one who gets the chance. It's all kinds of bizarre and wrong and he tries not to think about it. 

He's not supposed to feel honored by it. Dick needs something from him. Needs what he'd started in the living room, and Jason wants to do it. Wants to treat him like an object. Something to be used and thrown away. 

The same as Bruce treated him. He doesn't want to think about Bruce.

It's easy not to with Dick rising up on his knees on the bed, reaching out a hand to him. Jason, for once in his life, takes it. He lets Dick reel him in, lets him pull him down for another kiss as those agile fingers hook into the waistband of his underwear and pull them down. 

“You need to size up in these,” Dick teases him as though he hasn't just left him completely exposed. Those same clever fingers rub his thighs and Jason shudders. “I'm surprised they aren't cutting off your circulation.” 

He needs the control back. He picks up the bottle of lube and tosses it to Dick. “Open yourself up for me,” He orders. “On your back. Spread those legs like I know you've done a million times.” He licks his lips and tries to think of something insulting to say. “Who hasn't been between your legs?”

Dick just smiles. Cocky and sure of himself, and sure that Jason is just posturing. “Whatever you say.” He starts on his back. Easier to reach, easier to keep his legs spread and give Jason the best view. There's some heavy shame in that, in wanting Jason to look at him now, but he'll evaluate it later like he does everything else in his mind filed under Jason Todd.

He stretches his leg up, nearly behind his head, just to show off. He slicks his fingers easily, in a practiced way, clicking the top back on the bottle before his fingers move between his legs. He wishes they were Jason's, so he tells him as much. 

Jason snorts, sits on the edge of the bed and reaches to slap at him. “Such a whore,” He says back, almost fond, and Dick's erection only gets harder. 

He starts with two fingers, which might be a mistake, but he wants to move on. He wants Jason. He's thought of Jason's cock on patrol and in the shower. He's thought of being fucked by him when he was getting fucked by someone else, and he feels a little ashamed about it but not ashamed enough. 

The burn of a stretch is there and Dick's breath hitches as he lifts his hips and rocks his fingers inside him. After a few passes he starts to scissor them, watching as Jason leans closer to get a better look. He wants to protest but his tongue feels thick in his mouth with the pleasant buzz going through his veins at how much of Jason's attention he has. 

He moves on to a third finger too soon, gasping a little, having to pause with his fingers inside him and his hole clenching around them. “Fuck,” Jason repeats. “Do you want my cock that badly, baby?”

It's an odd endearment, and one Dick loves right now. He thinks of Jason's hands on him, running along every inch of him, pointing out his every flaw. “I want you to fuck me,” He whispers, giving rise to the words that have been rolling around in his head for weeks. 

Jason makes a sound, moving forward, resting a hand on Dick's knee. He moves again and a slick finger is nudging in alongside Dick's. Jason's fingers are thick, as hot as the rest of him, and Dick spreads his legs even more widely to accommodate even though some part of his brain has short circuited and is sparking out. He's staring dumbly at Jason, mouth hanging open. 

At least, until Jason slides the fingers of his other hand in his mouth. “I'm going to miss my cock in here,” Jason says. “So I hope your ass is worth it.” 

Dick wants to sing the praises of his ass, but Jason is pulling his finger free. He pulls Dick's wrist out as well and sits on the bed, legs bent behind him and cock straining proudly. “I want you to fuck yourself on me,” He tells him, smirking like it's a witty turn of phrase. 

Jason unrolls a condom, the pre-lubricated kind, over his erection. No doubt they're both clean but it's easier for the clean up. It's something less intimate. Another barrier between them even in an act like this. Dick had been tight around his finger, slick and _hot_ and so goddamn perfect. Jason needs the barrier, needs the slight dulling of sensation. He wants this to not be over too soon. 

Dick moves carefully. He's glad he's practiced, because this is one hell of an angle Jason's come up with. He grips the base of his cock, holding him steady as he rocks his hips back. It takes a couple of passes to get the angle right, and he moans every time Jason's cock slides along his cleft, against his hole, against the back of his balls. 

But then he's inside. Sinking in quickly with a rock of Dick's hips and, experienced as he is, Dick is still left crying out. Thick, long enough to matter, and _throbbing_ inside him. Dick is tightening around him, feeling like he'll never be able to fully relax, and by the light bucks of Jason's hips underneath him he knows the younger man is enjoying every moment of it. 

To his credit, Jason gives him a moment to adjust. He lets Dick lift up and sink back down a few times and sweet motherfucking God it scrapes all the right places inside Dick. He tips his head back, hand flailing until Jason grips it to give him some support. They should have done this closer to a wall, closer to something to grip, because while Dick's balance is usually impeccable right now it's definitely being tested. Jason fills him up, the tip of his cock presses against that bundle of nerves inside him at each pass. It sets fire to Dick's nerves, has him rocking forward and back again, eager to keep feelint it. 

Jason helps. Jason bucks his hips up, slams into Dick a few times on a downswing when he's sure he's ready. It startles a gasp out of them both. One hand curls around his hip, helping support him, the other firmly extended to Dick's hold to help him move. Dick finds himself wishing Jason had more hands, body feeling electric and aching without anyone to stroke down it, to touch him more intimately. 

“So fucking tight,” Jason whispers to him. “Fucking slick. Your body was made for this, wasn't it? You were made to get fucked.” Dick can only nod, can only agree as he does a near back bend, hunting for another kiss. Some connection to Jason, some proof that it's actually Jason fucking him and not someone he only pretends is Jason. 

The kiss is granted, brief and desperate, before Jason pushes Dick forward onto his knees. He needs more. Harder. He needs to punish Dick, to chase the pleasure cresting inside him. There's a panic rising that he won't get another chance, and there's still so much he wants to do. He doesn't want to lose this, to lose Dick, and that's another uncomfortable thought. 

Fortunately, it's chased away as he sinks even deeper into Dick's body in this position. “I'm going to fucking ruin you,” Jason says like an endearment. “Going to fucking wreck you for any cock but mine.” His hips snap forward and Dick cries out, eagerly pushing back, lifting his ass for more. “This is the real you, isn't it?” Jason pants, holding his hip still with one hand. “Dick Grayson. Nightwing. Playboy. _Cockslut_.”

The word makes Dick arch again, cock dribbling a little onto the bed beneath him. He's whimpering now, moaning out every breath. The pleasure is constant, nerve searing. Jason behind him and above him. Jason inside him, thick and pounding, reaching every place Dick loves and then some. 

Dick's legs are spread wide and he needs his hands to keep himself braced. He shifts, trying to get a hand to his own dick, nearly faceplanting in the process, and Jason seems to catch on. He wraps a hand around him and Dick is struck that he's barely even touched him there this entire night. A few brief, glancing touches. Nothing this intense, and Dick is still about to go off in his hand. He's about to come just from being treated like a dog and fucked up the ass. 

“Mine,” Jason hisses out, fucking into him hard enough to almost hurt. His palm is rough jerking him off. “And so fucking wet for me. Are you going to come for me, Nightwing?”

Maybe it's his codename being used. Maybe it's the way Jason hits his prostate with unerring accuracy. Dick doesn't know, but he's coming before he even realizes it's happening. It surges through him with a violence, robbing his lungs of air, like every piece of him is suddenly focused on his cock, is suddenly shooting into Jason's stroking hand. 

Jason doesn't slow. Doesn't falter. The orgasm rolls on until Dick is gasping, clawing at the pillows and dropping onto his face because he can't possibly hold himself up any longer. It's painful. It's perfect. Dick comes more than he can remember coming in years and black spots are beginning to dance in his vision before Jason starts to falter. 

Jason felt him come, of course. He felt the wet spill in his hand and the tightening around his cock and he reacted on instinct. He slams into Dick, barely remembering to keep them both upright. He's chasing an orgasm he didn't know he needed so badly. Unlike Dick, he hadn't been trying to get rid of the experience with others. He's deprived, but now his body remembers, and it wants. Wants Dick tight around him. Wants those delicious, pitiful sounds he's making, wants to completely destroy him. 

He comes all but silently, wanting to hear the last whimpers from Dick's lips. He fucks him until he's sore, until each pull of his cock makes him shiver a little, before completely pulling out. 

Dick flops over, boneless nearly instantly, and groaning. Jason wants to do likewise but he peels the condom off first, tying it with numb fingers and throwing it in the general direction of the trashcan. He'll pick it up later. 

Dick squirms toward him and they end up lying face to face, curled against one another. Jason thinks distantly that he would like to see Dick's face when he comes from Jason's cock inside him. Tonight it had been a level of intimacy he couldn't deal with. 

“Why is it?” Dick asks, swallowing to build his voice. “That after we do this I always end up covered in come?” Jason looks down. Dick's stomach and a little up to his chest is covered in ribbons of come. There's a smudge or two on his hip where Jason grabbed him afterward, too. “Not that I mind,” Dick adds with a lazy smile. “Just an observation.”

That's good, because Jason doesn't have an answer. He thinks of something snarky like _I have that effect on people_ but he can't quite voice it when he's this contented. 

Dick shifts, feeling the weight of the collar suddenly heavy on his throat. He tips his head for Jason. “Off?” He asks, fingers already reaching in case Jason doesn't comply. But the man's hands lift and, between the two of them, they manage to get it off and toss it to the side. Maybe one day he'll wear it for longer. Maybe one day there will be a longer seen, but he's eager to slip back to being equals. To whatever weird alliance they have currently. 

“You feel okay?” Jason asks, looking awkward and hostile at the same time. “Usually you don't fucking shut up and you're quiet.” Dick isn't sure if he should take it as sweet or a little condescending. 

“I'm great,” He replies, and surprisingly he means it. “Going to be fucking sore tomorrow. I'm tired.” Which is good. He might be able to drop off to sleep quickly and stay asleep. Nothing like the innocent, exhausted sleep of the completely fucked out. “You could stay,” Dick says, and doesn't look directly at Jason. “If you wanted.” 

Jason, terrifyingly, considers it. Part of him wants to, but part of him knows it's too much. He doesn't want to risk a nightmare. He doesn't want to have to think about if they'll have sex in the morning and if it will be loving. Or if Dick will leave him unattended in the apartment when he goes to work. “I have shit to do,” He says carefully and, damn it, adds “Maybe next time.” Because Dick looks so crestfallen. 

It's enough of a peace offering, maybe. Dick leans forward, hesitant, and brushes his lips against Jason's. He seems wary of getting his face bitten off, and he smiles when Jason doesn't react. That sweet, charming smile Jason hates because he's never sure when it's fake. “It could be like this a lot more,” He says with a shrug. The implied _If you would get some help_ is never said, which Jason appreciates. 

“I'm going to clean up,” Dick teases lightly. Try as he might, he can't make this feel normal. It's always going to be something, with Jason. Always some hurdle. Always some minefield to navigate. Dick hates the challenge after the fact, but he cares about Jason. There's always a catch. He gets out of bed, stretching, heedless of his nudity and realizing belatedly that Jason is curling up a little, covering more of himself with the sheet than Dick would assume he might. Jason is in great shape, Jason is fucking gorgeous, Jason just fucked him and Dick doesn't know what he has to hide. 

Belatedly he sees Jason's gaze on his hips, on the bruises Jason has made. He doesn't process it until much later.“I'll see you around,” He informs Jason awkwardly. He knows better than to go in for another kiss. 

“Yeah,” Jason agrees. Dick doesn't hear him get off the bed until Dick is safely in the bathroom. He turns the water for the shower on a moment later, leaning his head against the cool wall and trying to stop his legs from shaking. 

He needs to stop while he's ahead. Best sex of the last year non withstanding, he can't manage this. He can't use Jason, can't build an emotional bridge between them through sex. He needs to call in more professional help because things can't continue as they are. Jason had stopped when he said to. Jason hadn't really hurt him except for some rough fucking and a little rough handling that Dick had definitely enjoyed. 

He's conflicted. But deep down, Dick knows exactly who he's going to go to when his next itch needs to be scratched.


End file.
